Life is For Living
by ohmyhotch
Summary: The story of Esme Platt through her hell-ish time as a human, followed by her transition into the world of the immortal.
1. Chapter 1 - That's Life

**Hello lovely people! I got bored, and decided I would do a re-write of Life is For Living. So I dug it out of my hard-drive and started writing. Yup. True story. Considering I'm 5 years older than I was the first time I wrote it, I'm expecting a lot more length and such. I already have a ton of ideas for filler chapters, because I've realized how jumpy this is already. Anyway, enjoy!**

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Columbus, Ohio

April, 1911

Esme glanced behind her, a wide grin on her face as she spotted her best friend, Thomas, running not far behind her. He'd left his twin sister, Lily, far behind him. It wasn't her fault that she was faster than both of her best friends. Of course, Lily had objected to what she'd deemed as 'childish behavior', so it was really no wonder she wasn't really trying.

Grumbling, Thomas called after Esme. "Aw. Come on Esie! Give me a chance! We all know you're the fastest. You don't need to rub it in!"

In response she giggled and pushed herself faster. "Yes. I am fastest. This is called Tag, Tom. The goal of the game is to run away as fast as you can, and stay away from the person chasing you," she teased. Once he was far enough behind Esme that she felt safe, she began to scale the giant oak tree that sat a fair distance from the small farm house she lived in.

"What are you doing Esme?" he asked panting as he approached the tree.

"Getting a safe distance away from you. We all know you are deathly afraid of heights," she called down triumphantly, pulling her jacket more tightly around herself to combat the cool April air. Just then Lily approached them. If there was one thing Esme knew, it was that Lily was not pleased. She didn't exactly approve of the fact that her best friend openly rebelled against being a 16-year-old girl.

"Esme," Lily told her in a stern voice. _Always acting older than she is_, Esme thought rolling her eyes. "You get down from that tree this instant. Climbing trees is _not_ ladylike!"

"Aw. Lily come on! Having a little fun will not kill you!" Esme smiled climbing up higher, until she reached her favorite branch and perched on it, looking down at her two friends with a smirk. Tom looked exasperated, but it was obvious that Lily was drawing nearer and nearer to murderous with every passing second.

"I will go get your parents," she threatened, folding her arms, shooting a glare at Esme that rivaled even that of her mother..

Esme sighed. Lily knew her weak spot better than anyone. Esme's mother would kill her for playing tag with Tom let alone climbing a tree.

"Alright. I'm coming down. Calm down, Lily. You look like you're ready to blow your own head off," Esme laughed, and looked down, slowly beginning her defeated decent. On the third branch from where she could jump down without injury, the bough she was standing on snapped. Esme looked quickly at her two friends with a look of panic in the moment before she started falling. They both looked horrified. Not nearly as horrified as Esme felt. What if she died?

The ground seemed to approach in slow motion, although Esme could tell she was going to hit the ground soon. Hard. She was positive that she was going to break, or at least sprain something. She closed her eyes tightly, bracing herself for the inevitable moment she would collide with the hard, unkind ground below her. Esme felt herself hit and although it seemed to be detached from her, as if this was all happening to someone else entirely, she waited for the pain of the blow to fully come to her awareness.

"Oh no!" Lily started sobbing almost immediately. "She's dead!"

"Lily. She is not dead... I hope," I heard Tom's voice, much closer than Lily's. "Esie? Er... Es? can you hear me?" he called hesitantly.

"Of course I can hear you Tom, you silly boy," Esme replied gritting her teeth, her eyes still shut. The worst of the pain was coming from her lower body, although honestly? Everything hurt. "Go get my parents Lily, will you?" Esme opened her eyes and looked at her friend. The poor girl was shaking with tears streaming down her face. She nodded and started running back towards the house.

"Esme, are you alright?" Tom asked kneeling next to Esme. He looked truly worried.

She nodded, and sighed. "I think so. I'm pretty sure my leg is broken though, I can't move it."

"That's no good. And it's all my fault. I'm the one who insisted we play. I mean, sure we're teenagers, but why do the kids get to have all the fun? And now look at you, you're hurt!" Tom shook his head, tears welling in his blue eyes. "I'm so sorry,"

"Thomas Bentley, this was not your fault," Esme scolded. "I'm the one who climbed the tree, after all. Not you. And you didn't force me to, either. I was showing off,"

"I... I know. But still. I'll tell your parents I dared you to climb it. They spend enough time angry with you for not acting as you should, I can live with taking the blame for once," he shrugged, smiling.

Despite the pain, Esme found herself smiling. "You'd do that just so I don't get into as much trouble?"

"I'm going to. I hate seeing you get yelled at. You're my best friend, Esie,"

"Thank you, Tom. Honestly. You're the most wonderful friend I could ever hope for," Esme shook her head. "But I can't let you do that. I'm used to being yelled at. I'll be all right,"

"I don't care. I'd like to see you try and stop me," Tom replied, folding his arms.

"What's going on?" Esme's father, Richard, asked wearily as he approached. "What happened this time, Esme? Lily ran inside so hysterical we could barely make out that she was trying to tell us that you'd gotten hurt,"

"Er, it's my fault, Mr Platt. We were running around, and I bet Esme that she couldn't climb to the top of the tree," Tom lied smoothly before Esme could protest. "I didn't think she'd actually do it, then when Lily caught up to us, she threatened to come tell you that Es was climbing the tree, so Esme came down."

"Then I fell," Esme cut in, sighing.

"What have we said about climbing that old tree?" Richard asked, shaking his head.

Esme locked her gaze on yellow daffodil a few inches away, her cheeks flushing bright red. "I'm not supposed to, I'm supposed to act my age," she grumbled, plucking the flower from the ground and holding onto it.

"Like I said, though," Tom added. "It's my fault, not hers,"

"Esme has her own free will, Thomas. She chose to climb the tree, it had nothing to do with you. You need to quit encouraging her," Esme's mother scolded.

"Yes, Mrs Platt," Tom sighed, looking down.

"Now, you two had better head home."

"All right. C'mon, Tom," Lily agreed immediately, grabbing her brother's arm and pulling him along with her.

"See you later Esme," Tom glanced back, looking at Esme, a look of sadness at his forced departure on his, still slightly chubby, face.

"I'll see you later Tom." Esme told him frowning, as her father lifted her off the ground where she had landed.

"Well, we'd better get you to the hospital," he sighed walking toward the house, behind his wife.

"It's really not Tom's fault," Esme said, looking up at her father. "He didn't even dare me to climb, I just... I just did,"

"I know. You're lucky to have a friend like Thomas, Esme." Richard told her, a small smile on his lips.

"So... so you aren't angry?" she asked timidly.

"No. I'm not angry. I'm frustrated, Esme. You're sixteen years old. You need to start acting like it." he replied, shaking his head. "I'm hoping you'll begin learning that behavior such as this isn't acceptable anymore. Especially if you're hoping to marry,"

Esme's cheeks flushed again, and she remained silent as her father lifted her into the passenger seat of the truck that was usually only used for farming duties. This was, however, a special circumstance. Glancing down at the daffodil that she still held onto, Esme sighed. Growing up wasn't fun at all.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Doctor

**Ooopsie that was a long wait, huh? I got really busy, I guess. But I'm hoping to get a few new chapters revised over the next few weeks, and fleshed out. You're all amazing, and I hope you enjoy!**

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It was a ten minute drive to the hospital in Columbus, Esme sat quietly the entire time, not daring to speak again. She was too afraid that another... uncomfortable topic such as marriage would be brought up again.

Her father carried Esme inside and set her down carefully on one of the hard wooden chairs. The emergency room was empty apart from the two of them, as well a mother and her child, crying softly into her shoulder. She tried her best to focus any thoughts she had on something other than the horrible pain in her leg, or anywhere else it happened to be. Smiling, Esme thought about the grand adventures Tom, Lily and herself had gone on the past few days. Her father came and sat next to her, staring ahead of him. Esme began to doubt his claim that he wasn't angry, and frowned. "The doctor will be able to see you within the next ten minutes," he informed her finally. Silently she nodded and swung her good leg back and forth anxiously.

"I'm sorry," Esme said quickly, turning her head to glance at him. "I'm sorry I disappoint you.. That I'm not... what you expect of a girl my age,"

He sighed as he thought of what to say, still staring ahead of him. Esme had the urge to look away, but Esme had given herself at two years old. "You need to learn to be more responsible. You are practically a woman now. You are going to have to get married and have a family, like I said," Immediately she regretted speaking. Father-daughter talks had a history of being awkward and always seemed to be about the same thing. Marriage. Especially after she'd done something as foolish as this.

The next few minutes while they waited were uncomfortable. Esme wished she could walk, so she could leave, at least to cross the room. Neither of them said a word. They both knew it would make the situation more awkward than it was already. Relaxing, she allowed herself to get lost in her thoughts once again. Groaning internally she realized that those, too, focused on marriage. Why was she so opposed to it? She had no clue. Esme adored children. She always had. She knew how impossible it was to be a single mother. The judgement that would occur. Perhaps she should be a teacher. Then marriage wouldn't be necessary.

Momentarily she was pulled from her thoughts when a nurse entered the room, calling the woman with her now calm child into the back. Esme smiled a little as the little boy waved at her. His cheeks were flushed red, and his blonde curls were in disarray. Quickly he jumped off his mother's lap and ran over to her.

"You're real pretty," he whispered, jumping onto Esme's lap and wrapping his arms around her neck. She tried not to wince as his tiny foot collided with her hurt leg. "I'm Andrew. Mommy said I'm sick. You don't look sick, but I hope you feel better,"

"Andrew!" his mother called. To Esme she sounded completely mortified as she ran over and scooped Andrew into her arms. "I'm so sorry. He's not feeling well, I... I don't know what he's thinking,"

"That's all right." Esme shook her head. "He's very sweet," she added, then looked at Andrew. "I hope you feel better as well, Andrew," she smiled. He waved again as his mother carried him off. For a while, Esme almost expected her father to comment, but to her relief he said nothing.

Then another nurse came out, looking boredly around the room. "Esme Platt?" she called, looking at us.

"Right here," Richard stood up, lifting Esme into his arms again, walking toward the nurse.

Esme's eyebrows knitted together in confusion as they followed the nurse. Why did she look so bored? Weren't nurses supposed to be nice? This one certainly didn't look like she was. Maybe she was tired, though that didn't seem like an excuse to be so cold.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, the bored-looking nurse led them into a white room with a thin curtain for a door. Esme sighed in relief as she was gently sat down on a hard surface again. She didn't pay much attention as the nurse went about, filling out various forms as she did a swift preliminary examination and checked Esme's pulse and blood pressure.

"A doctor will be in to see you soon," she said finally. "If you need anything while you're waiting, there are plenty of nurses who can help you," the nurse added, she didn't sound like she wanted the girl to need anything.

"Thank you," Esme replied, looking at the floor. Her cheeks bright red. She didn't risk saying anything else, she'd done enough to ruin today. Of course, the demeanor of the hospital staff wasn't helping to make anything better.

The small room remained silent for a while. Esme didn't bother to strike up another conversation, for fear that it would end up like the last one had. Richard didn't seem too keen on the idea, either. Of course, his daughter had different reasons than the uncomfortable silences that followed. It wasn't exactly that she was opposed to marriage. No, she wasn't at all. It was simply that she had other interests. Things she would like to do before being married. Things her parents would never approve of.

Esme's head shot up as the curtain opened. For a moment she expected to see the bored nurse again, but to her relief, she didn't. Instead, a young doctor stood, smiling. He was tall and blonde, his skin was incredibly pale and his teeth were the whitest she'd ever seen, but that isn't what caught her attention. No, it was his face. Not only did it seem so... so perfect that it couldn't possibly be real, there was such an amazing amount of compassion that was easily seen in the wide smile, and the softness of his face.

"Alright Miss. Platt. I'm Doctor Cullen, I'll be assisting you this evening." He began, looking down at the clipboard he was holding. "It says here that there is a possibility of a fracture in your leg is that correct?"

"Yes," Esme nodded.

"And it seems your face and arms are fairly scratched as well," he mused, gently turning Esme's cheek with his hand for closer inspection. "Well, it's no problem, we'll have you all patched up in no time,"

"Thank you," she replied, smiling a little. "Your hands are really cold," she noted. "That's strange, well, unless you've been sticking your hands in the snow. But that would be a little odd, since you're working,"

"Esme, don't," Richard sighed, exasperatedly.

"Sorry," Esme winced. "I'm too curious. Forgive me, Doctor Cullen,"

"No need to apologize," he shook his head. "And, to answer your question, I've got terrible circulation. Runs in the family," he added, grinning as if something he'd said was some inside joke. "And please, call me Carlisle, Doctor Cullen makes me feel, well, old,"

"And Miss Platt makes me feel like a child, so if I'm going to call you Carlisle, you call me Esme," the girl shrugged, ignoring the embarrassed groan that escaped from her father in the corner.

"It's a deal," Carlisle laughed. "On a more serious note, let's see what we can do about your leg, okay? I'm sure your father is anxious to get you home," he said, looking over at Robert momentarily, before his gaze shifted back to Esme.

For the next few minutes, he went about his work, and Esme watched. His fingers moved quickly, skillfully. If they hadn't been so freezing, she'd have been sure he wasn't even touching her leg. Occasionally he would press a little too hard, causing her to wince. He would politely apologize and continue working. After a while, he straightened up and began to speak.

"All right, Esme. I'm afraid you have indeed broken your leg. Though, it seems to be a small, very clean break, which will allow it to heal quickly and without trouble," Carlisle began. "Now. We're going to have to put a cast on it, and your mobility will be limited for about a month, perhaps more, but you'll be back on your feet soon enough," he explained. "I'll be back momentarily with the supplies," he added, exiting the room.

Esme sat silently letting her thoughts completely consume her while she awaited Carlisle's return. He was back within the minute, carrying a box to hold all that he needed. He set it next to the girl and began to work quickly and efficiently, setting the cast. This, it seemed, was the easy part. It barely hurt at all. "All right, Esme." he smiled and stood out of the crouch that he had been in while he'd been working, though it seemed to take no effort. It was a little surprising to Esme, considering she'd crouched like that before, and tight muscles seemed to come with it. Perhaps Carlisle was just used to crouching like that. "I believe that will do."

"Thank you Do- Carlisle," Esme smiled, pushing any doubt about the kind doctor from her mind.

"Now. We'd better let you and your father get home," he told her. "If you have any problems, don't hesitate to come back in, and we'll see what we can do. It will help if you stay fairly still until the cast is removed," Carlisle instructed, speaking more to Richard than to Esme.

"Thank you, Doctor," Richard nodded, walking over, he lifted Esme into his arms, gently. Though, she noted, his touch seemed rough in comparison to Carlisle's.

"It was my pleasure," Carlisle smiled at the two of them. Richard's face remained serious, though he nodded again; but Esme beamed. She couldn't seem to help herself, there was something so mysterious and compelling about the young doctor. "Thank you for your patience, Esme," Carlisle told her, before looking at Richard. "That's a wonderful girl you have there,"

"I know she is," Richard replied, smiling for the first time since Carlisle had come into the room.


	3. Chapter 3 - Spirited

**Apparently I'm on a roll. Can't help myself. I'd wait, but I just want to post this. True story. Enjoy!**

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Chapter 3- Spirited

July, 1917

Esme looked out the window of her bedroom. Still stuck at home. Twenty-two years old. Most of her friends had married. Tom had. Lily hadn't, yet, but had several men who were interested in her. Why wouldn't they be? She was, and had been since she'd turned 18, the most sought after girl in Columbus. If Esme was in any way interested in marriage, well, she might've been competition for her friend. But she wasn't. She saw no reason to go off and get married, especially since it wasn't what she wanted.

Quickly the woman turned, hearing the door creak open. Seconds later, her mother's face appeared through the crack.

"Esie?" she smiled. "Your father would like to see you downstairs in two minutes," she announced, before disappearing, the door closing quietly behind her.

This was her chance, Esme realized, smiling. Perhaps her final chance to finally get them to see her way. To make them see that, yes, the Wilds were dangerous. Of course they were. But... she could take care of herself!

Confidently, Esme crossed to the door, pulling it open in one swift movement. She was going to do it. Stand up for herself. Make it known that she, Esme Platt, could do as she wished. It didn't matter what other's thought. Not even her parents. She'd do it delicately, though. She didn't want to hurt them. They only wanted what was best for her, after all. But she didn't want to live like they expected, like she saw so many other women live. Chained down, not allowed to express themselves, because it wasn't seen as proper. She was different.

Biting her lip, she walked into the living room, where her father sat, reading the newspaper.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked, suddenly feeling nervous. But her nerves were never going to get in her way. Not now.

"Yes, I did," Richard agreed, sighing. "I don't want you taking this the wrong way-" he began, but Esme cut him off, her heart racing.

"Daddy, can I say something before you start this again?" she asked, immediately turning bright red at the look he gave her. Piercing knives would've been better.

Richard was silent for a long time, in which Esme became more and more anxious, before nodding.

"I want you to listen to me, before you say anything, please," she began, crossing the room to take a seat on the floor in front of him. "Daddy, I know you don't like it, but... I want to teach. I don't want to get married, I'm not in love. I couldn't stand marrying anyone I don't love. I know you want me to get married. But... it's just not right," Esme sighed.

"Esie, we've been over this. It's too dangerous. I don't know what I'd do if I saw you going off to some dangerous place, with wild men and... and who knows what all over the place. It's not that I don't want you to be happy, I want you to understand that. I want to see you safe, Es. Please," Richard replied, his voice dangerously quiet. "You're my little girl. Please," he repeated.

Tears welled in her eyes as Esme spoke again "I know. I know you want me safe. But I'm willing to risk it. For happiness, I'd be willing to risk anything, daddy, don't you understand?" she pleaded.

"Esme. I called you down here for a reason. I don't want you to hate me. I'd do anything to make you happy, but before that I need to make sure you're taken care of. I need to do what's best for you," he sighed. "Es, there are plenty of young men in town who are interested in you. I know you give none of them the time of day, but maybe, if you did give one of them the chance, you'd find out they do make you happy," Richard continued, clearing his throat. Esme's throat felt as though her heart was in her throat. This wasn't going to end well. "That's why I've taken the opportunity to select one for you. His name's Charles, he was in your year at school. Good boy. He comes from a good family, he'll be able to take good care of you,"

"No, no. I told you, I told you I don't want to be married! I don't care if he'll take care of me or not," Esme shook her head, her voice breaking. "Daddy, please,"

"It's done, Esme. You're going to marry him, and that's final. I'm sure you'll find, soon enough, that you're happier than you think you're going to be. Just, give him a chance before you completely object to the idea, okay?"

"Fine," she conceded. There was no winning now. She wasn't going to get her way. Like he'd said, it was final. This was the end. The end of her hopes and dreams. As 'good' as her father said Charles was, nothing, no one would measure up to Carlisle Cullen. The charming doctor from six years ago. But he was gone. He'd moved months after Esme had met him. Perhaps, though, she could run. Do what she wanted, regardless of what anyone said. That had been her plan all along, hadn't it? Holding back the full stream of tears, Esme looked up at her father. "Is that all?" she asked finally.

"That's all," Richard replied, sighing. "But, before you go, know that I stand by this, regardless of whether you end up hating me or not,"

Esme nodded and rose and paused, "I could never hate you, daddy. I know you mean well," she whispered before walking slowly from the room before she reached the front door. Could she really do this? Was she really going to run? Blinking back tears, she slipped from the house into the hot July air and ran. She didn't know where she was going. She hadn't brought anything with her, but she ran, as fast as she could away from her home.

She had no idea how long she'd been running when she finally stopped, unable to run any longer. Tears stung in her eyes as Esme looked around. Realizing where she was, a faint smile appeared on her face. Tom's house.

Without hesitation, she stepped forward, knocking on the door. It seemed to take forever before the door was finally opened. A very pregnant woman, Tom's wife, stood in the doorway, looking confused. Esme had met her a few times. A sweet woman, Abby, was her name.

"Is Tom home?" Esme asked quietly.

"Yes, of course. Come in," Abby nodded, moving aside. Esme walked past her. In most situations she would have made some comment about how nice the home looked, but this wasn't most situations. She needed to see Tom. To talk to him. "Have a seat," Abby told her, smiling lightly, but kindly. "I'll go get him,"

Esme obliged, taking a seat on the sofa. A new wave of emotion hit as she thought of what she might say. How would she explain how she felt without sounding like an unruly, emotional teenager? Wiping away tears, she looked up as Tom walked into the room.

"Esie, what happened? What's wrong?" he asked, immediately crossing to her, and kneeling in front of her.

"It's really nothing important," Esme shook her head, realizing how childish it was to have run off in the first place.

"Of course it's important. Even if it's ridiculous, to you it's important. If it wasn't, you wouldn't be crying," Tom pointed out.

"Yeah... I guess," she sighed, biting her lip.

"Esie, what is it?" he prodded. "Just tell me, it can't be that bad,"

"Oh?" Esme asked, raising her eyebrows as she looked up at him. "You tell me," she shrugged. "It was twenty minutes ago. Daddy called me downstairs, said he wanted to talk to me. Tom... I'm getting married," she said finally.

Tom's eyes widened. "Es, that's great! Wh-why are you sad about it?"

"Because I'm not in love, Tom! It's not what I want. I... I want to leave. To live my life without caring what anyone tells me to do, or what they think. Tom, I don't want to get married. Especially if I'm not in love,"

Sighing, Tom nodded. "I know. You've been saying that since we were kids."

"I don't know what to do, Tom. I really don't. I want to do the right thing, I want to make myself happy, but I don't want to disappoint my parents. I've done enough of that already. I don't want anyone to hate me,"

"Esme Platt, listen to me, okay? Whatever you decide, regardless of what happens, I don't think anyone could hate you. And if they do, they're a fool, do you understand?" Tom said firmly, though gently, gripping her shoulders.

She paused, looking her best friend in the eyes. "Okay," Esme nodded finally. "And Tom?"

"Yeah, Es?"

"Thank you," she said, smiling a little.

"For what?" he asked, releasing her shoulders.

"For everything. For being my friend, for listening to me, regardless of how childish I am. Just... thank you," Esme shook her head, her smile widening. And with that her decision was made. She couldn't leave. There was no way she could get by without Tom at her side. She would marry Charles, after all, how bad could it possibly be?


End file.
